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2001-10-18 - 1:07 p.m.

a few things.

I'd have to say the most upsetting thing that's happened to me in awhile was getting warm change from a toll booth collector. I mean almost hot to the touch.


How long did he hold it in his hands, waiting for me to drive up..waiting to hand it to me, to press it into my palm.


What if it wasn't in his palm.

Sweet Bag of Jesus.

Tonight is date with Susan. We talked last night, for about three hours total, off and on, with her cell phone cutting off, and Chloe needing some reading time. It seems like time just passes by so quick when we talk.

It's not like before..where I was overcome with emotions, or just that incredible urge to be "touched" by her, or to connect with her. Not like with Skye, or Kara, or Mindy.

I don't mean to say that I am not looking forward to talking to her, or being with's just that I don't feel that empty feeling when we're apart or not talking.

It's almost as if I'm starting to be complete on my own, being just me, and that she only adds to me, rather than completes me.

Hey! wow.

Tonight I go for the "hello kiss". I bet I chicken out.

I've been reading tons lately, and everytime I am walking to work, or around the bath, in the shower,

(yes in the shower, a bad habit some have said, but I like to read, and I like to shower, so where is the harm?)

at lunch, before bed, in the morning..always reading. I've tore through at least five novels in the past two weeks. Some beefy, some thin and easy to digest.

One of the books I'm reading brings me back to an article I read a few years ago that talked about the situation of Murakami as it relates to his station within conventional postmondernist literary discourse.

The book, The Elephant Vanishes, is a selection of short stories...and a few of them were taken almost word for word, with few structural or charactarizational changes made to them, and used as the framework for his novel, The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, and it struck me as unfair when I read them, but I also was kinda impressed with the way he wove them into the fabric of the story itself.

I imagine that if I was to take my life, and the notes and journals I've written in, emails, short stories, and the like, and compiled them into some sort of coherent flow, I'd probably do something similar.

I'd recreate stories, and I was going to write anecdotes, but I'm not sure how to spell it, so there goes that.

--wow I got offtrack.

Anyways, the article was basically an examination as to whether his novels were particularlly classifiable as being postmodernist.

First of all , the guy's the son of two japanese literary professors or something, so I am sure his style and writing methods are directly related to his exposure of a myriad of literature, and culturally-imbued literary works, and are not so much as some sort of overt effort to fit his writing in a box, and become defined as a "postmodernist" or any "ist".

I think that I'm into his books because of the way he mixes events so static, and normal,things based on everyday life--and either holds them in direct contrast or interlocks them with frightening, or bizarre events.

I would never have read any of them, were it not for Skye. I am not sure we read them for the same reasons, however.

I have shitty sci-fi novels next to my Eco, chess books stacked on top of my Kafka, videogame manuals under my Barthes companion.

I wonder what my words would be compartmentalized,



lumped in with,

labeled as.

File under C for Crappy.

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